


Just Like Everybody Else

by Wawa_Girl



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, References to Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, Romance, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 06:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11641074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wawa_Girl/pseuds/Wawa_Girl
Summary: "What greater meaning can life possibly have to offer?"





	Just Like Everybody Else

_Simple, undeniable facts of the world: Mom is the best, grass smells nice, and listening to music while lying in the grass with mom is fun._

"Anooooother love song?"

It wasn't a criticism; merely a comment the eight-year-old Peter Quill couldn't help but teasingly observe as _Fooled Around and Fell in Love_ , which despite being "romantic" had a pleasant tune, faded out and _I'm Not in Love_ followed immediately after.

Meredith smiled and propped her head up with one hand. "No, Peter, he's saying he's _not_ in love. Don't you listen?" she teased right back, and Peter made a look that screamed, _'Oh, come on!'_ because he knew even a two-year-old could understand what the song was really about.

"There's a lot of them," he stated, taking notice that the cloud formations very commonly resembled small mammals.

"Are they a problem?" his mother challenged, watching the rays through the slits in the clouds beating down on her son's face. Chance of light showers later, though neither were concerned about getting caught, her mind instead on the list of tracks she was already planning for his next gift.

"...no..." Peter mumbled his answer while rolling over in the soft grass, closing his eyes and enjoying each note regardless of the lyrics.

"Ya know, Peter, you wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for people falling in love," she said without thinking. It was an odd thing to say given his age, but she kept it appropriate. They were close, Peter was smart, and things were changing. Time was precious.

"Neither would I. Neither would many, _many_ people. It's a big part of life," she continued, and saw a twist of the mouth from a boy mulling over a concept perhaps beyond his years.

"It can happen to anyone, at any age, and any place." The young woman stopped herself from adding, _'It can even be with someone not of this world,'_ strong reservations about dwelling on the past or making assumptions of the future her reason for the small bit of censorship. She instead ended her little love lesson with, "And music can be a key in bringing people together. Being in love...makes you want to sing," she said the honest fact with a grin. "And dance," she added for him, unsure if he was listening to her or dozing off to the music, until he let go of the headphone pressed to his ear and stood up.

"I dance for _fun_! And because I can!" he declared and began to move in a fashion she was sure he was imitating from a certain teenage drama flick, and she pressed pause on the cassette.

"Well, that's a perfectly good reason, too," she stated, laughing as he danced to music he had already memorized.

Giggling at his antics and seemingly non-stop energy, Meredith Quill couldn't help but think about the life she hoped for her only son. A life of adventure, happiness, painful lessons, and overall contentment, whether she could be present in this life or not. One with all the fun and good things he deserved, and all the strangeness a universe such as this would choose to throw at him, and all who he choose to share his company.

Then she realized the waste of a beautiful Sunday afternoon to worry about the unforeseeable future of her presently joy-filled boy.

Then the first pangs of thunder hit.

"Oh no!" she joked and quickly threw the Walkman under her shirt. "Protect the music!" she shouted and looked up to see Peter still dancing despite the rain shifting from drizzling to coming down in sheets over the span of fifteen seconds. _Yeah, 'chance of light showers' my ass, you lying weathermen._

"Peter? Peter!" she hollered over the roaring clouds and splashing under his shoes as he jumped up and down in a newly-formed mud puddle. "Peter!" she scolded a touch more firm before standing herself and running behind him. "Come on, Star-Lord!" she said, scooping him up and dashing to shelter them under the nearest pavilion as he hummed the chorus to _Come and Get Your Love_.

Taking cover in the empty area, raindrops clattering onto the roof above them, she settled her son down to sit at a picnic table, the two of them positively drenched, water dripping from his short hair, his flannel jacket sticking to his shirt. She removed the miraculously dry music device from her clothing and placed it onto the table, faint tunes coming from the ear pieces.

"Sorry," Peter giggled, shaking his head and looking at his mother also dripping wet, her blue jeans covered in water stains and blonde curls matted to her face. "You're soaked," he said, biting his lip apologetically.

Meredith took in their surroundings, from the grey clouds and pouring rain, to the little man-made haven they were inside. There were initials and inside jokes carved into the wood of the tables, abandoned straw wrappers and cigarette butts across the cemented floor, a sign marking the year of the structure's creation. Traces of memories from fellow mortals spending a fraction of their limited time on the planet in the same space as she and her son.

She wiped some rain off his cheek, wringing out her own hair. "Hey," she said in her Missourian accent, shooing away a fly that landed on a button of his Walkman. Peter blinked up at her with innocent eyes and returned her smile. "What's so wrong with that?"

**********

"Bahahahahahaha!"

Peter held tight onto his knees to support himself, desperate to control his own laughter. He couldn't remember seeing Drax smile so wide or bellow so loud since the day Peter put laxatives in Rocket's dinner.

"And then...Quill? Quill, wait, wait, I'm not finished," Drax tried to get the other man's attention while he was doubled over in another fit. "Quill, it isn't over."

When the four band of heroes first returned to _The Milano_ , exhausted after their latest fight, Peter had fully intended to turn on some tunes and hit the hay, with _zero_ intention of staying anywhere near Drax when the larger man uttered the phrase _'This reminds me of the time...'_

And yet, being unable to escape with the others at the beginnings of his tale resulted in Peter howling harder than he had in months, _needing_ to hear it to the end.

"Okay, okay," Peter tried to calm down and stood back up to lean against the wall of the ship. "What more?" he asked crossing his arms, always in the mood to hear the craziest stories imaginable.

"What I neglected to previously mention was that said referee had a large-scale portrait of himself hanging above his work desk in his home..."

"Ohhhhh...wow..." Peter involuntarily winced from secondhand embarrassment at the tasteless and unsubtle display of narcissism.

"Yes," Drax said with a nod. "Bottom line, payment slip and portrait, both on fire, go out the window, and this fool had apparently consumed enough liquor to believe jumping out the fourth story window after them was a bright idea."

Peter immediately burst into another fit of laughter at the mental image before he was even sure Drax had finished the sentence. He wiped a few tears from his eyes, and knew they had to shut up soon if they didn't want either Gamora or Rocket angrily demanding they do, because all he learned as a kid about raccoons being nocturnal apparently didn't apply to this verbal, angry critter living in his ship.

"He survived, but in this case we didn't need to do much work. He really destroyed himself," Drax stated proudly.

"But the plumbing...?"

"Well no, _we_ destroyed that," Drax said and Peter laughed again, this time covering his mouth with one hand. "My assigned teammate was in the bathroom the entire time taking care of it. He was near furious when he found out he had missed the best part. It was his idea to follow this cheater home, after all."

"Wow. That is great, buddy. Especially the part about the talking bird," Peter said. "We have similar ones on Terra. Parrots. Horrible creatures. It had it coming," he said with a pat on the back.

"Thank you," Drax took a bow. "All names are left out to protect both the brave, and as you would call them, the stupid."

Peter shrugged, confused. "You coulda made up fake names," he said, a habit he had long used in his own manipulative ploys and exaggerated storytelling.

"What would be the purpose in that?" Drax asked equally confused.

The Guardians leader shrugged again. "It's funny."

Drax frowned. "It is already amusing," he insisted. "He was highly obnoxious. My wife once said--" There was a pause, Drax clearing his throat, and Peter took notice of the slight discomfort at the somber tonal shift. It wasn't a secret that he was carrying an enormous amount of grief over his wife and daughter, enough that he had been willing to _die_ to see them again, and yet was adapting so seamlessly into this new "family" they were all still struggling to get used to.

Peter glanced over at a certain second volume mixtape currently singing in its built-in player, knowing he was the last one to begrudge anyone their lingering sentiment.

"Go on," he encouraged with a friendly smile.

Drax appeared gracious and found the strength to continue. "My wife once said if I was stranded on a deserted planet with every obnoxious being alive, any rescuers would find only myself and several thousand corpses," he completed her joke and grinned, and Peter tried to mirror it while taking a few steps to the side, reminding himself the importance of toning down the obnoxious levels around his new roommates.

"Uh-huh. Yeah, yeah, I--I believe it," he said nervously, now strongly wondering how Rocket was still alive.

"Because I would eat all of the food and kill all the obnoxious neighbors--"

"I get it," Peter cut him off and refocused on the story. "But that was...surprisingly really funny. Not sure what the connection is between that and us slaying a one-eyed, fifty-foot deer-looking creature, but I'm glad it made you think of it," he said. "If you ever want to hear any crazy Ravager stories, I've got a million of 'em," Peter said honestly, or at least he _thought_ the statement to be "honest."

"You have one million bizarre and entertaining stories from your relatively short life among them?" Drax questioned in surprise, and Peter pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Not literally," he sighed. "Well, maybe I could remember a literal million of them, but several would be very...dull..." He looked up with a smirk.

It was true that Peter had shared many similar fun tales with the Ravagers, as well as with many strangers he was trying to manipulate on his solo adventures, but there was always a level of tension, mistrust, and backstabbing in those circles, and there was something nice about hearing a hilarious true story from a trusted teammate while in the safe confines of his ship. Something comforting in swapping stories with a real...friend.

Drax said he had been aching to retell that story for ages, prison not always providing the best company, as Peter perfectly understood. And Peter was glad he had taken the time to listen, realizing for the first time since leading this group that he hadn't spent much time getting to know him. There was something admirable and genuine in the way Drax looked upon Peter and the other Guardians as true friends, despite their inability to ever replace his deceased family.

"This man actually gave up a potential marriage with a fine woman to instead pursue a romantic relationship with a body of water?" Drax questioned the chorus of the song playing, and this time Peter didn't sigh in frustration at Drax's minimal understanding of metaphors, but gave a resigned little laugh at his should-be-obvious-by-now quirk.

"Everything truly does need to be _completely_ literal for you, doesn't it?"

Drax stretched his muscular arms and tilted his head at the question. "What's so wrong with that?"

**********

"Alright, that enough light for ya?"

"I am Groot."

"It's still so weird to hear you say that in such a small voice," Rocket said, settling him next to his old pot by the windshield. "We won't be gone long. Just a fly over Xandar. You'll barely miss us. QUILL! You ready yet?!"

On cue Peter exited his quarters wearing a pack matching Rocket's, sticking his thumb in an upward position. "Ready!"

"Forgetting anything?" the raccoon challenged, crossing his small arms, and Quill turned around and patted his jacket in a quick check, finding nothing missing.

"Ready...loser?" he asked, and Rocket jerked a paw behind him in the direction of Groot. "Oh! Right! On it!" Peter said and skipped to _The Milano_ 's cassette player, the first few notes of _Ain't No Mountain High Enough_ filling Groot's tiny ears with glee. "Enjoy, bud! Like the song says, if you need us, we'll be there in a jiffy!" Groot seemed comforted despite never hearing the word "jiffy" in the song, and waved as Peter and Rocket shouted goodbyes and headed out.

"I dunno why he enjoys that crap so much," Rocket said as they walked to find a clear space, already feeling Quill's glare without needing to look up.

"And I don't know why you needed to buy even _more_ flight equipment, if you even did _buy_ them," Peter argued right back, the exchanged insults now a common routine.

"I _did_ purchase them, _completely legally_ , and I did because I _felt like it_ , so shut up and let's see if they were worth the price!" Rocket growled and faced the sky, and Quill rolled his eyes doing the same.

"On the count of three?" Peter asked without looking at his shorter friend, and Rocket gave a devious smirk.

"Sure," he said composed. "I'll count. One...Two........."

The number three was never spoken.

In its place was the sound of a jet pack being initiated, causing Peter to jolt and stare skyward to see Rocket soaring above him and laughing.

"Ugh, rotten little creep..." he grumbled and initiated his own device, feeling a strange movement in his jacket pocket, ignoring it as he pointed a middle finger north and lifted off the ground.

It didn't take long for the Terran to catch up to the flying rodent, slowing down to the left of him, middle finger purposely presented.

"Hey, Star Loser! What took you so long?" Rocket quipped, having to shout to be heard over the wind in their ears.

Peter finally lowered his finger and spread out arms in front of himself for balance. "For several blissful seconds I was flying without you yipping and bitching, and I didn't want it to end."

Rocket smiled, not smirked but genuinely _smiled_ , and Peter saw a rare look of pure happiness in that smile, both of them taking in the cool air and breathtaking view.

"You say that now, but the next time you're in trouble, don't come cryin' to--"

"I am Groot!"

The two Guardians paused, Rocket's smile vanishing. They stared at one another for a good five seconds before Rocket slowly asked, "Why did you say that?"

"I didn't!" Peter defended, and carefully scanned his pockets until he felt something squirming, even more carefully pulling the culprit out of his jacket to reveal a shaking baby tree grasping the human index finger for dear life. "I think we've got a stowaway," Peter announced with a nervous laugh, Rocket taking on a look of both horror and wrath.

"GROOT! WHAT do you think you're doin' up here?!"

"I...I...I a--a--am...Gr--gr--roooooot..." he responded, still shaking while making the grave mistake of looking down.

Peter quickly surveyed their path and held up his other hand to Rocket. "Hold on, hold on, hold on, buddy," he told the child and placed him up onto his shoulder. "Groot, do _not_ let go of my jacket, understand me?! Hold onto it as tight as possible! Do _not_ let go!" he instructed with emphasis, as if the child had any intention whatsoever of letting go.

Groot did as he was told and visibly calmed, and Rocket jumped back into his scolding. "I told you to stay on the ship! Why would you sneak into Quill's pocket? You coulda been killed!"

Peter realized it would need to be his job to watch out for any obstacles during this little parental dispute and keep his eyes straight ahead. Groot looked mildly ashamed. "I am Groot."

"It doesn't matter if it looked fun! You're too small! Quill put on your favorite tunes, and we were gonna be back soon!"

"I am GROOT!"

"I don't care if you've grown recently, or that you can now extend your branches to catch something. I still said 'no'!" Rocket shouted, his voice cracking, and Peter winced at the volume so close to him, wondering if he should hand Groot over to Rocket and fly away, allowing them to sort this out alone.

"I am Groot?"

"Yes, we're going back!" he replied in an _'Obviously!'_ tone. "Gah, so much for kicking Quill's ass in a race to the nearest pub. Shit, Drax and Gamora must be worried sick!" The raccoon flipped out his communicator while grumbling, _'Some help they are...'_ before Peter heard Gamora's worried voice on the other end, and tuned out Rocket's explanation of the situation.

"Hey, you okay up there?" Peter asked, looking upward. "Don't worry, _I_ enjoy your company, buddy," he told the kid, who still looked guilty and afraid. "If you wanted different music, you could've just asked. I didn't bring my Walkman up here. Safety hazard," he tried to joke, while Rocket was still frantically arguing with their other team members from an incredible distance.

"I am Groot," he said in an apologetic tone.

"You shouldn't have done this. It _is_ too dangerous for someone so little. But as someone who did _plenty_ of dumb things and snuck into a lot of places I shouldn't have growing up, I understand it," he admitted truthfully. He knew he had been the Ravagers' worst nightmare as a kid. "When something looks cool, you just can't resist," he related, hoping to make Groot feel better. Peter had also been worried and annoyed when they first discovered him, but after Rocket's outburst, he was sure the miniature tree had learned his lesson.

"You know what a hothead Rocket can be. He'll cool off," he reassured. It was difficult for _anyone_ to look into young Groot's eyes and stay angry. "I would enjoy the view up there while you can, though. I don't think we're staying," he said when he saw Rocket hanging up on their friends.

"Well, the jet packs _work_ , and our 'team' is nothing but a buncha incompetent deadbeats," Rocket declared. "Let's go," he said with a sigh.

"Uhhh, Rocket?"

 _"What?!"_ the rodent barked at Peter, until he saw the Terran move his eyes in the direction of Groot, the tiny sapling's own eyes wide and watery.

"Awww, geez..." One look and he was broken. "You won't do anything like this ever again?" Groot shook his head, and Rocket clearly knew they could discuss the credibility of that answer later. "Alright, you can stay with us while we fly a little while longer and go to pick up fuel. You deserve a little adventure of your own. But we're not racing!" he insisted, and his returning smile very much reflected the one he wore before Groot was found, perhaps this time it was a bit bigger.

Groot was looking purely ecstatic now, gripping onto a wrinkle in Peter's jacket shoulder like the human was a ride, and the leader of the Guardians couldn't help the amusement at the turn of events.

Rocket was one of the _least_ responsible jerks he had ever met, except for when Groot was concerned. And Peter knew it couldn't be easy for the cybernetically-altered raccoon to accept his best friend reverting into a child in sudden need of protecting, to learn daily on the job how to be a parent to a rambunctious, sentient tree.

And maybe Rocket's over-protectiveness was excessive, but it would likely ease once Groot got a little bigger, grew a little more experienced, and as they all became more comfortable calling themselves a team.

Peter Quill looked down at the world below him and around at his company. It felt like a dream. Everything about the scene felt like something from a dream, but it was real. He was awake, flying amongst friends, a plant child safely perched on his shoulder, and the child's former partner-in-crime now legal guardian beside them with the wind in his fur.

"What's with the stupid grin, moron?" Rocket's voice broke through the air, and Peter felt Groot lying his small head in his hair.

"Just...you. Responsible caretaker," he teased, and Rocket crinkled his nose to prepare a defense, looking up at where Groot lay.

"I...am...Groot..."

"Yeah!" Rocket agreed with his tiny friend. "What's so wrong with that?"

**********

The melody _was_ pleasant. She wouldn't deny that.

It was not a typical situation for her. They were on a mission. _She_ was on a mission. And she did not _dance_.

And she wasn't dancing, right?

Swaying to the music, perhaps. Their fingers gently brushed each other's as she allowed him to take her hand, his eyes followed her in a confusing manner, and her lips felt to be in an almost magnetic pull toward the other pair.

The last Zehoberei didn't know exactly what was happening, but there was something truly intriguing about this man. He had saved her from a vengeful prisoner using only his words. He risked being tased by a guard to protect an impractical artifact from his mother on his homeworld. He spoke in strange cultural phrases, and told her a summarized tale of a legendary hero named Bacon who apparently changed the lives of people like her. He listened as she spoke of her personal trials with Thanos, eyes full of sympathy and interest, not pity or disdain.

He was oddly funny, at least able to pull a smirk out of her. She felt drawn to ask him questions that he answered openly, and his face was certainly, by all calculations, aesthetically pleasing.

His eyes were closed, unable to see the gorgeous sky behind them, trusting her with his most prized possession over her head and leaning in to her lips just the same.

She hadn't time to form bonds. She hadn't time for romance, for dancing, for pleasure, for any such nonsense. She was on an important mission, and this was not who she was.

But while her contact was forcing them to wait, and Peter Quill was seemingly enjoying this moment as much as she...

While her mind was turning off, engrossed in a song about fooling around and love, willing to kiss him...

If she wanted to spend a few short pieces of time kissing an attractive, interesting comrade, well...

_What's so wrong with that?_

Gamora nearly did such a thing, comfortable in this rare moment not spent in the presence of an enemy, before remembering _who_ this Terran male was and how they had met.

Threatening him with her knife to his throat, making him shriek several octaves higher than his previous voice, the vehement assassin demanded this smooth-talking outlaw to keep his _pelvic sorcery_ to himself.

She barely knew this honorless thief, after all.

**********

"If you don't put that brainless noise-maker down right now we will roast your ugly, pink hide for supper! Get back over here, boy!"

Peter scowled, and reluctantly removed his headphones in the middle of Rupert Holmes' musical tale of infidelity, dragging his shoes in the dirt back to where Yondu was preparing his weapon.

"But I suck at shooting," the child whined in a tone Yondu very much wanted to twist out of existence.

"Tell me somethin' we don't know!" the Ravager Captain barked and shoved the firearm into the Terran boy's chest. "I'm skippin' valuable thievin' time to help you suck less so that we're not cleanin' up your bloody limbs after our next attack, so try it again!"

The boy's eyes widened in fear as he took the gun and adjusted it in his arms. It was heavy, but he was getting stronger, and he knew that the fearsome band of pirates with whom he lived wouldn't take his size and strength as an excuse for defeat. Yondu certainly wasn't.

"What I already told ya before," he said while the kid squinted into the distance and tried to prop up the weapon. "Dominant eye, concentrate, and think _rage_."

 _'Because one day folks will try to kill you,'_ Yondu thought without verbally adding. _And you're gonna be as well-equipped for that day as I can make ya._

The boy quit his squinting, and instead of making any desired sarcastic retorts he asked, "What am I even aiming at?" when he noticed the earlier target was nowhere in sight.

"Anything!" Yondu answered and turned the kid back around. "Literally hittin' anythin' is our goal! Come on! Pick your own target!" he encouraged with a less-than-patient attitude, but Peter was already searching the area for what to try to shoot. "Just actually _hit_ what you choose this time!"

Peter glared again, mostly frustrated with himself. He had been in a good mood that day, and enjoyed learning new things, especially when it was just him and Yondu. So when their captain pulled him out of his bunk and told him he was going to teach him to defend himself, allowing him to use _his own gun_ , the child didn't put up a fight.

The gathered excitement for the day's activities waned, however, when the young Terran thew his gun down in frustration after a dozen shots had just grazed or completely missed his target, each one leaving him more exhausted and feeling like a failure. Despite Yondu yelling at him, Peter insisted on "taking five" and went to play with a stick and put on his headphones to tune out the disappointment of the man behind him, tune out the voice screaming that "one day you're goin' to get killed out here!"

_Maybe that would be better._

_Maybe it's what they all want._

But now he was back, standing beside Yondu, giving up apparently not an option, and it dawned on Peter.

Yondu wasn't letting him give up. He must've wanted him to succeed. He must not _want_ him to die.

The child's realizations spread. When it was only the two of them, no other Ravagers around, Peter was less intimidated. He was less fearful, less able to take threats of being eaten seriously. There was a calming about these rare times when they were alone together, even if his captain was still a major a-hole.

Thinking rage-filled thoughts during his last shooting attempts hadn't worked. Focusing on his usual rage at being kidnapped without warning or explanation literally minutes after his mother died, the fury at being treated like a potential snack if he dare disobeyed their dirty deeds, the anger at the verbal abuse and terrible living styles...it just wasn't there. It didn't work in helping him fire, because he wasn't nearly as angry when alone with Yondu.

He needed a different motivation.

"Before you're as old as I am, boy!" Yondu cut into the young Quill's thought process, and his student turned around biting his lip.

"And what do I get if I hit something?" the child asked with a smirk, and his captain appeared momentarily stunned, a cross between annoyance at the kid's audacity and bemusement at his courage. Asking _'What's in it for me?'_ was certainly not in-character for the kid who spent most of his time sulking in his own quarters listening to music, crying in fear or anguish, wordlessly obeying every order.

"You get to live to see another sun," he replied, watching the kid smile at him trying to hide his amusement and pride. The kid put a hand on his hip, not afraid, not backing down from this negotiation. "Fine, if you can make _one_ shot, I'll call you by that stupid name you've been askin' us to."

Peter looked as though he had just been given a device that held over three-hundred songs. "Really?" he asked, thrilled at the idea, immediately reverting back into the quiet and innocent kid who desperately needed this lesson.

"Sure," Yondu said and gave him a push, forcing him back to task, and Peter found his target.

It was set high in the sky, completely out of his range, and he didn't even know what it was, but he was going for it.

He stole one quick glance back at Yondu, and didn't know whether it was the nickname incentive, the smile his captain was giving him, or the fact that he had always wanted to share moments like this with a father back on Earth, but somehow Peter found himself smiling back, his determination stronger than ever.

_I am a Ravager. I am only ten-years-old, but I can destroy you. I am Star-Lord._

He paused his monologue to relax and focus. _Focus...concentrate...aim..._

"Whoa!"

It was a hit alright.

 _Goddamn_ was it was a hit.

Peter seemed startled by his own action and gently lowered the gun. He still didn't know what he hit, but there was definite contact, if the loud crashing sound was a strong enough clue, and a proud smile began to form.

"Not...bad," Yondu managed to admit after his interjection. "For a normally useless Terran brat." Peter cleared his throat in an impatient "ahem!" and stared up at him expectantly.

"Yeah, yeah, not bad, _Star-Lord_ ," he said distracted, and Peter beamed so brightly that Yondu couldn't help but think, _'Shit, if just that makes the boy so happy, what a pathetic creature he must've been back on Terra.'_

"Yes! Finally!" the kid cheered and made a ridiculous gesture of a fist being pulled into his side. "Again?" he asked, lifting his gun while Yondu was staring upwards and growing fearful at an increasingly loud noise.

"Nope! Sorry, boy!" he said, pulling the kid by the arm and grabbing his precious Walkman along the way, running in the direction of _The Eclector_. "We gotta go!"

"Why?" Peter asked and looked around for the threat, feeling less confident in his newly-developed shooting skills.

"Because you hit a nearby spaceship, and there's a pretty good chance they're gonna blast back soon!" he explained running faster, taking the kid's gun away and picking him up to get them back on board in better time.

"Oh," Peter said as they reached their home ship and he was practically thrown inside. "Whoops!"

Yondu took his place in the captain's seat and wasted no time in flying their asses out of there, calling out various information and instructions, making sure to add, "If anyone's injured, Quill is to blame!"

"Hey!" the boy crossed his arms in aggravation at being thrown under the metaphorical bus to a group he was already fearful. "And I thought I was 'Star-Lord' now!" he pouted, rather than focusing on the severity of the current situation.

"You'll be dead if you don't either put on your belt or get under your bed!" he shouted while maneuvering the now enemy ship's retaliating shots, Peter choosing the seatbelt option. "And I never said I would call you that more than once," he said with a slick smile.

 _Of course not._ Peter huffed and resumed listening to his music on a low volume, proud of his accomplishment yet betrayed at the short life of his reward. Yondu took notice and sighed, hearing havoc and arguing from every corner of the ship. "Alright, how about I also give you...a low percentage of my reward units once we survive this mess you've put us in? How does five percent sound?"

Peter looked confused and lifted up one headphone. "Reward units for what?" he asked, eyes momentarily widening at another near miss.

"For the mess _you just put us in!_ " his captain repeated like it was obvious, and then it clicked.

"Is _that_ why you wanted me to succeed and hit something?" ten-year-old Quill asked, offended. "You guys _bet_ on me?"

The question went ignored without confirmation or denial for the stretch of time it took to _not die_ and lose their present attackers. All other Ravagers aboard eventually made their way to the cockpit with some questions of their own, but Yondu only smiled at Quill again, white and crooked teeth on display, prepared to ask for a significant amount of money from his crew.

"What's so wrong with that?"

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo, I had no idea that "Yondu teaching Peter how to shoot a gun" stories had already been done to death (I know, I'm new to this fandom, blah). And by the time I learned that I had already started this, so hopefully the first four stories and any possible different take on the last one will make up for the repetition. :P
> 
> ANYWHO! I hope you all enjoyed this piece, and if you're wonderful enough to leave a comment, perhaps consider letting me know which of the five stories you thought was the best (or at least which was your favorite), since this is my first time writing a "several mini stories in one" type of fic, and any feedback would thrill me. Thanks for reading!~
> 
> My _Guardians of the Galaxy_ tumblr is [here](https://marypoppinswasmyfatherbitches.tumblr.com/)!


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